


Harmony One-Shots

by Accio_Me



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fear of Heights, London Eye - Freeform, Teasing, Wedding Dress, date
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:48:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accio_Me/pseuds/Accio_Me
Summary: I can't only have two of my favourite pairings on here. Now it's time to add some Harmony to the party!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Finally Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was standing in front of the mirror, perfectly centred. The first thing she noticed wasn't the dress, but how she looked in it. Her eyes were sparkling with so much joy that a soft gasp escaped her, purely out of surprise. She looked happy.

**Finally Belonging**

A wedding dress was probably the most important garment a woman would ever wear in her life. Her mother had said so, her grandmother had said so, and Hermione had grown up believing it. She’d spent hours upon hours in front of her mum’s full-length mirror, twirling around in circle skirts, a big hat on her head, and an equally as broad grin on her face. 

Although her mother had never had what you would call _‘the traditional wedding dress’_ , Hermione had always imagined herself marrying in white. Even back on those sunny afternoons in her favourite twirling skirt and summer hat, she’d pictured herself walking down the aisle, her fingers wrapped around beautifully colourful flowers, on her way to marry her Mr. Sunshine.

That was what she had always called him - Mr. Sunshine. She’d never known what he would look like or what kind of person he would be, but she’d always felt like he would be the source of so much happiness and strength in her life that the name was more than fitting.

Now, at the age of twenty-seven, she knew what the mysterious man of her dreams looked like. He had the darkest hair she had ever seen, the brightest green eyes she could ever imagine someone possessing, and the loveliest, most honest, and charming character in the whole world. Not every moment had been happy, though, as both his and her life had been tainted by darkness and hate for longer than she cared to remember, yet, they had managed to survive the dangers and were ready to move forward. If anything, they had grown stronger despite it all.

The young witch looked at the white box in front of her, not prepared for any of this. Sure, she wanted more than anything to marry Harry, but _this_ … This was a lot to take in.

Sometime last week when Hermione had come home from work, Harry had told her that he had found something special in the Potters’ family vault. He’d spent every minute of his free time during the years after the war rummaging through his family’s as well as the Black’s vault, looking for Merlin knew what. After about two years of asking herself what he had been doing in Gringotts all the time, she’d received the first part of the answer.

The ruby on her right ring finger sparkled in the sunlight that was filtering through the open curtains as she twisted her hands nervously. It was framed by tiny diamonds, each set in a way that made them almost too blinding to look at. The golden band completed her engagement ring. It was simply beautiful and one of two Potter heirlooms she would one day own.

Just like the ring, Lily Evans Potter had once worn the dress that was hidden underneath the paper lid of the box. That fact alone made Hermione hesitate to even lift the cover off the container, but she knew she’d have to do so eventually. Harry had not looked at the dress himself, as he had told her he’d been busy not fainting when he had seen the label on the white lid.

Hermione had seen the dress on multiple pictures from the 1980s already, all lined up perfectly in one of the three photo albums Harry had from his family. She’d seen the moving pictures, the twirling skirt of the dress fluttering around Lily’s legs, and her future mother-in-law’s brilliant smile that outshone even something as beautiful and delicate as the gown.

And what a gown it was. It looked simply breathtaking.

She had not been able to see many details as the pictures had been taken in the 1980s, and since then the quality of wizarding photography had improved drastically, yet it was more than enough to know that she would not be able to take her eyes off of it once she’d caught a glimpse. 

She bit her lip and reached out slowly. Carefully, as if she was handling something ancient and brittle, she lifted the top of the box to reveal white fabric covered by thin parchment paper. Delicately, she peeled away the tissue pieces protecting the garment and gasped.

It was even more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. Small flowers made out of the same flowy fabric were sewn onto the bodice, giving it an almost ethereal look. Tiny pieces of rhinestone made the dress sparkle in the sunlight as Hermione carefully lifted the garment out of its home for the last thirty or so years. The skirt fell to the carpeted ground in one elegant and swift motion, as if it wasn’t made out of the silky material but something laced with magic. Which, thinking about it now, was entirely possible. Especially considering whose family it was an heirloom of.

For a few moments, the young woman just stood there, speechless. She couldn’t do more than stare at what she was holding and wonder how on earth she would manage to put it on without fainting from excitement. But, being the logical person that she was, she gently placed the dress back onto the mattress of her bed and turned around in search of her wand.

Both her and Harry wanted to focus more on their Muggle heritage than their magic heritage for their wedding. There would be loads of people from Hermione’s side of the family who, officially speaking, had no clue she was indeed a witch and that magic existed in the first place.

Since they were both Ministry employees and it would be more than just embarrassing if their colleagues from the Muggle division had to hi-jack the party, they’d need to stick to the low-key magic anyway. They’d serve both Muggle as well as wizarding drinks, but they’d focus more on hiding what’s happening behind the scenes.

So, Hermione would need the help of her bridesmaids to get into the gown. Ginny and Lavender, however, were nowhere near at the moment, so she’d have to do magic to get the dress on without either ripping it or straining any muscles she didn’t know she had in the first place. She silently thanked her foresight of looking up appropriate spells for this occasion. You couldn’t just use a simple hovering charm and a lacing charm to do all the work for you as those weren’t precise enough for something so valuable.

After a little bit of jiggling back and forth, forcibly making herself look anywhere but the mirror that seemed to draw in her eyes, and some well-aimed wandwork, it was done. She was wearing the second Potter heirloom that was solely meant for her. She could feel her heartbeat speed up as the realisation hit her.

She was not only wearing her fiancé’s mother’s Goblin-made engagement ring but also her wedding dress, a gown that had been in the family for generations. She’d imagined that she would be horrified to touch it, let alone wear something as old and precious as this piece of clothing, but now that she was in it, silk brushing against her skin, she had to rectify her previous beliefs.

The dress was incredibly comfortable. It wasn’t heavy, she didn’t feel any of the stones poking her in the arms, and the silk was so soft to the touch that she just _knew_ that it had been made with magic. A laugh escaped her as the thought that it was even more comfortable than her pyjamas entered her mind. 

She already loved this dress and she hadn’t even seen herself in it yet.

Taking a deep breath and automatically steeling herself for disappointment, she closed her eyes and turned on the spot. She felt the soft fabric brush against her bare legs, slightly tickling the top of her feet as the hem slid over her toes.

For what felt like minutes, Hermione just stood there, breathing. In and out. Slowly. Calmly. Trying to ignore the hammering of her heart inside her chest. It wasn’t working.

She straightened her spine and puffed out all of the air her lungs had held. She needed to get this over with and stop making such a fuss about it. It was just a dress. Well, it was her _wedding_ dress, so the fuss was _more_ than justified, but she’d need to open her eyes eventually if she didn’t want Harry to march into the room thinking she’d gone to sleep only to see something he wasn’t supposed to see before she was walking down the aisle!

Summoning all of her Gryffindor courage, which wasn’t much at the moment, she forced her eyes to open, and her heart skipped a beat at the sight in front of her.

She was standing in front of the mirror, perfectly centred. The first thing she noticed wasn’t the dress, but how _she_ looked in it. Her hair framed her face in a way she had never seen before. She’d cut it short a few months ago, which had only brought out her slightly wild curls even more as it barely touched her shoulders. Her eyes were sparkling with so much joy that a soft gasp escaped her, purely out of surprise. The sun hit her face at an angle that made her look healthy, young, and… happy. 

She looked happy.

And then it all hit her. She had never been happier than with Harry. Back in primary school, she’d been the school nerd, always getting bullied and made fun of. Going to Hogwarts hadn’t been much different until a certain someone had taken it upon himself to save her from a rogue troll, one that shouldn’t have been in the castle in the first place. She’d been content back then, but with everything that had happened on the sidelines, she believed that she’d never been truly happy, had never felt like she’d truly belonged there.

Now she did. She belonged right here, in front of this mirror, with the sun shining on her face and in the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. She belonged to the most incredible man in her life and she couldn’t wait for the moment that he’d see her in her wedding dress.

Hermione smiled shyly at her reflection, coyly biting on her lower lip. For the first time in her life, she felt beautiful.

A loud _crack_ pulled her out of her thoughts just before the front door opened. Heavy footsteps moved through the hallways downstairs as Harry shuffled towards the wardrobe to get rid of his cloak, boots, and bag. It would only be a matter of time until he’d come up the stairs and walk into this exact room to swap his pair of slacks for a pair of comfortable bottoms.

“Hermione?” he called loudly as he slowly moved up the stairs. “I’m home.”

“ _Shit_!” the witch cursed softly and hurried over to the door to lock it from the inside. “Don’t come in just yet!” she yelled as the doorknob jiggled. “I just need a second!”

“You alright in there?”

 _Bless his heart_. She could hear the worry clear in his voice, which had her bite down on her lip once more. Warmth she never wanted to get used to spread through her entire body, warming her up from the inside. Gosh, she loved him so much.

“Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry about it. I’m just getting dressed, that’s all.” Hurriedly, she reached for her wand and twirled it over her head. She felt the buttons on the back undo themselves before the silk was lifted off her shoulders.

“You’re getting dressed and don’t want me to see it?”

Hermione bit down a laugh as she heard the utter confusion laced in his words. “Yes.”

The silence that followed gave her the time she needed to focus on carefully folding the gown into a more compact size and putting it back into the box. With a quick muttered spell, the container was sealed and levitated onto the sideboard that stood on the other side of the room. 

Once everything was looking as innocent as could be, she wrapped her dressing gown around her body, fluffed up her hair, and walked over to the door to end her fiancé’s misery.

“Hey there,” she said coyly as she slowly leaned against the doorframe, one hand resting on her waist while her other arm rested on the wood above her head. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

Harry gulped, his eyes travelling from her wild mane over her exposed collarbone, down to the loosely tied knot that held the flimsy material together, and back up. “Oh, no, no. It’s alright.”

Hermione giggled softly at his stuttering. His cheeks darkened slightly as his gaze started wandering again. “How was work?”

“W-What?”

“Nevermind.” The witch pushed away from the wooden door frame and stretched slowly, making sure to let one side of the dressing gown slip a bit too far. “I’m hungry,” she exclaimed and slid past the frozen Harry to move down the stairs. With a little extra _oomph_ in her step, of course. It was so much fun to tease him.

It was only once she’d reached the kitchen to look for what they still had in the fridge that she heard her fiancé scramble after her.

Oh, she’d have so much fun with him tonight before she’d get to enjoy his pent-up energy.


	2. I Will Follow Him Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All she wanted was to go on a date with her boyfriend. She never wanted him to try to be extra romantic and take her to the London Eye.

**I Will Follow Him Anywhere**

“Oh, Harry, I don’t think this was a good idea.”

Hermione bit her lip as she forced herself not to look down or sideways - or anywhere, really. It took her everything she had to not Disapparate out of there, with the wind pulling and pushing at the little cabin she and Harry were sitting in. Even _considering_ Disapparating as an option was saying enough as it was.

Hermione was a rule-abiding citizen. She hated breaking any of them or behaving in an attention-grabbing way, so her being alright with willingly risking the Statute of Secrecy was unheard of. At least it had been up until this wonderful, sunny afternoon in the middle of London.

“Calm down, Hermione. You’re alright.” 

Hermione could tell even in her state of distress that her boyfriend was having the time of his life. He actually thought this was _fun_! They were dangling at least three dozen metres above ground, getting higher and higher the longer they were sitting there, and _he thought it was fun_!

“It was your i-”

“Don’t even _think_ about continuing that sentence, Harry James Potter! All I wanted was to do something fun and walk around London. How was I supposed to know that you’d drag me onto the London Eye, of all things!”

She took a deep breath and forced her eyes to open into slits so she could glare at the guy sitting opposite of her. But just as she caught a glance of that all too happy grin, the cabin they were sitting in jerked to a sudden stop. She squealed as she was jolted in her seat. All too quickly, she slid sideways slightly and in order to catch herself, her eyes left Harry’s and she made the big mistake of _looking_.

Oh, God. Her hands gripped onto the weirdly-shaped plastic seat for dear life. Oh Merlin, no, this wasn’t good! This wasn’t good _at all_! They were hanging in mid-air, dangling from side to side, and the horizon tilted with every movement of the cabin. This felt worse than flying, at least she’d be able to take herself down!

“I’m going to be sick.”

“No, you won’t be, Hermione. You will be just fine.”

Warm hands grabbed both of her trembling and freezing ones and gently removed them from the seat just as another sudden gust of wind pushed against the sidewall of their cabin. A pathetic-sounding whimper escaped her as her hands twisted around and grabbed onto his hands. _Tightly_. Probably too tightly, but Hermione really didn’t care at that moment. She needed to hold onto something and if that couldn’t be the seat, his hands were the next best thing. She couldn’t very well reach for the bannister; that would mean she’d have to move closer to the side of their cabin and that would tilt it even more.

“Why did it stop moving?” she whispered, eyes still squeezed shut. Another jostle of _the entire cabin_ told her that Harry had leant forward in order to hear her. 

It took a few seconds in which he was probably trying to compose himself before she could hear his amused voice. “So that we can enjoy the view.”

“ _Enjoy the view_?” Hermione screeched and ripped open her eyes to stare at him, feeling every part of indignant she could right now. “How can someone enjoy the view while floating…” She trailed off and tilted her head slightly. “How high up are we right now?”

“About 130 metres.”

“Right. _How_ can someone enjoy the view while dangling 130 metres off the…” Hermione paused as she realised just exactly what Harry had told her. “ _Did you just say 130 metres?_ ”

Harry bit on his lip as the laughter started to seep out of him, however, at her narrowed eyes, he quickly took a breath and nodded solemnly. 

Hermione blinked. And blinked again. She could feel the wind tousling her hair as the cabin they were sitting in was swaying slightly from side to side. She could hear, no _feel_ , the rush of blood in her ears as well as the rapid beating of her heart in her chest.

“I see,” she said calmly, palms getting sweaty. “I see.”

 _Take a deep breath, Hermione_ , she told herself as she focussed on everything but her… well… location. She could hear seagulls now, changing directions every now and then. Were they circling the Ferris Wheel? The wind pushed her unruly hair out of her face and brought with it clear and fresh air, carrying none of the fumes from cars or chimneys below them, just nice, clean sea air. And, of course, Harry’s hands, grounding her, calming her, warming her in all the right ways. Like they always did. Like _he_ always did. He was her rock to hold onto when she felt like she was slowly losing her mind.

With another jerk, the London Eye started moving again, lowering their cabin metre by metre. The sound of the traffic below grew and the cries of the seagulls moved into the background. Through it all, Hermione kept her eyes shut and her hands tightly clasped within Harry’s secure hold, and before she knew it she felt him gently squeeze her hands.

“You can open your eyes now, love. We’ve made it.”

Trusting both her boyfriend as well as the decreasing jerking of the cabin, Hermione slowly opened her eyes to the most breath-taking sight - sparkling green eyes and the softest smile she had ever seen.

“I’m proud of you,” Harry said before pulling her off the incredibly uncomfortable plastic seat. He guided her out of the wobbling cabin and back onto solid ground. At that moment, she doubted she had ever loved him more. “You didn’t Disapparate.”

Hermione winced slightly and sheepishly smiled up at him as they started walking away from the queue of tourists that were still waiting for their turn on the famous London Eye. “It was that obvious, huh?”

“Only because I know you.” He winked saucily at her and Hermione forgot all about why she should be annoyed with him.

This might not have been the most relaxing date they had ever been on, she mused as they walked through the city holding hands, but it was definitely one of her favourite ones so far. Honestly, Harry could take her to a football game of the most random team she had never heard of in her entire life and she’d love him even more for it.

As long as she’d get to spend the day with him, she would happily follow him anywhere.


End file.
